


Setting Sun

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Morally Grey Harry Potter, Witch Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 02:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15476022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Rowena MacLeod fills the gap Fergus left with a child she finds absconded on the streets in London. She teaches him everything she knows.Harry James Potter becomes Harry Fergus MacLeod when he is five years old. He becomes a witch.Hogwarts is in for a surprise.





	Setting Sun

**Author's Note:**

> im a sucker for harry getting a good family

How he wished for freedom. Harry Potter was four years old, and he wanted freedom more than anything else in the world.

(A good meal wouldn’t hurt either.)

He was four years old, and already his life was a hell hole. Metaphorically, not literally. Not yet.

It wouldn’t be until he was five that his aunt and uncle would abandon him somewhere in the middle of London.

It was there that Harry James Potter became Harry Fergus MacLeod.

 

\---

 

Harry knew his Ma was a witch. Oh, she didn’t try to hide it. In fact, by the time Harry MacLeod was eight, he knew so many spells it was hard to keep track of them all and even had his own Grimoire.

His Ma was beautiful - he knew that objectively, men always stared at her. She had a thick Scottish accent, pretty red hair and blue eyes, and held his hand when they went outside.

She even taught him Nature Majicks, she taught him to dance inside Faerie rings and play tag with druids and ask the trees sweetly if they would let him climb them. He learnt rituals and spells and how to create hex bags and to never, ever carry a wand because that made him obvious. He learnt to teleport, to summon fire, to cast lightning from his fingertips, and all manners of other things besides.

Which is why it was a little bit of a shock when, three days before he turned eleven, he got a letter from a place called ‘Hogwarts’.

“Och, you dinnae need to go!” Said his Ma when he showed her, flipping her hair back. “I can teach you everythin’ you need ta know!”

Harry giggled. “But Ma, I want to go. I know you’re the best witch ever, but it might be fun… I might make some friends.”

Rowena sighed and ruffled his hair. “Yer too clever for yer own good, you are.”

Little Harry beamed. “So, I can go?”

When he got an agreement, Harry scurried off to pack. His Ma tended to dress him in a fashion she called “Winchester-ish” and his clothes consisted mostly of old band t-shirts, flannel, and jeans, which he didn’t mind. His nine favorite flannel shirts went into his case, as did his twelve shirts, eight pairs of jeans, his Grimoire, his combat boots, and two of his mother’s books and a journal before he could fit no more.

In a separate bag, he packed bundles of herbs used for hex bags, his twigs from the nicest trees, and the chalice he got from the Fae when he did them a favor.

(Harry MacLeod may not be the most powerful witch, but when one considered he had the favor of the Fae, things became far more interesting).

Three days later, there was a knock at the door, which Harry bounced over to answer, spell already lined up. He was still too short to look through the peep-hole, so instead, he felt for malicious energy. When there was none, he opened the door with a polite, “Good Afternoon.”

The woman standing there looked almost confused, but when invited in, she did enter. Harry’s Ma was sat on the couch, reading a rather old looking book. Harry hopped up onto the couch beside her.

“I know this may come as a shock to you, but your son is a wi--”

“Of course he’s a witch!” Harry’s Ma interrupted shrilly. “I taught him everything he knows!”

(It was kind of satisfying to see the woman look so taken aback. Harry got the impression that people didn’t tend to interrupt her often.)

“Ma, you said I could go, remember?” Harry whispered, and Ma nodded and ruffled his hair.

The woman, Professor Mcgonagall, went on to explain about Diagon Alley, when and why they would need to visit, and a lot of other stuff besides. She drew a wand (Ma scoffed, Harry gasped) and cast a small spell to make flames jump in the fireplace.

Harry couldn’t imagine forcing his magic into such a small tool.

“Um, sorry, miss, but it says that wands are required?” When he received an affirmation, he continued, “Well, I don’t really like to use wands.”

Mcgonagall opened her mouth to interrupt.

“I just mean, they’re too constricting. I can see how it would be useful for magical people to have one very small focal point, especially at first, but I don’t need that. My magic does what it’s told.”

“Well, Ollivanders does do a small range of other things, I’m sure you can look into that.”

Soon after that, the woman left, and Ma promised that she would take Harry to Diagon Alley the very next morning.

Harry was almost too excited to sleep, but he managed it eventually. He woke very early, and used the time until his Ma woke up to paint runes on the pages of his Grimoire to stop people but him from looking at it.

8am passed, and then 9am, and finally, at 10:42, he heard Ma starting to stir in her room. He knew better than to wake her on his own, so instead, he got dressed and grabbed his ipod and headphones, and lay on his bed, kicking his feet and listening to his music.

Finally, at around 11:30, he heard a knock at his bedroom door and he practically flew out, bouncing on his toes.

This trip was going to be… Interesting, to say the least.

 

\----

 

He had been right. It was interesting.

He met a blonde boy while shopping for his ‘robes’, which he absolutely was not going to wear, and a family of redheads while looking at books.

He ended up getting twice the recommended amount of books, because they all looked so… Interesting!

He steered well clear of the broom store, and managed to convince his Ma to let him look at the cats.

A black and white one really caught his attention, and he named her Hedwig. She seemed to like him.

Finally, it came time to buy (Harry’s nose wrinkled) a wand.

Ollivanders was the smallest store on the street, and Harry sighed deeply as he entered.

“Harry Potter. I’ve been expecting you.”

“It’s MacLeod, actually. And I don’t want a wand. What else do you have?”

Harry found the man to be rude and didn’t much like his attitude, but he supposed the same could be said for himself, too.

He was offered staffs, but he didn’t much like those either. When he was offered a rather exotic-looking wand, though, he did take it.

“A faerie-made wand.”

Before Harry even let his magic touch it, he knew that it was the one for him. It was white, with thin veins of blue and green through it, and golden sparkles spilled out of the tip when he pushed his magic up through it.

Now all he had to do was actually go to Hogwarts.

How hard could it be?


End file.
